


Reminiscence

by RemisVelisque



Category: Sheriarty - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlolly - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: 21st Century, 221b, Angst, Baker Street, Detective stories, England - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fanfic, Fictional, Hats, Intrigue, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, London, Love, M/M, Moriarty - Freeform, Not your typical lovestory, Romance, Sadly, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock is in Love, Story, Suspense, Tags, Umbrellas, black and white, clever detective, dribble drabbles, funny hat, holmes - Freeform, it's complicated - Freeform, lovestory, magnifying glass, not Sherlock's, present timeline, read it as if it were John's blog, sherlock theme song, someone made me do it, tumblr inspired, what story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemisVelisque/pseuds/RemisVelisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief collection of various Sherlock dribble drabbles/one shots/ stories.</p><p>“This is the story of two men, a woman, and their frankly ridiculous adventures—of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there’s a new story, a bigger adventure.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Glance

The detective peered up from his microscope to gaze at her. **The woman** , as he addressed her with.   
She was unaware of his visual interrogation, making it easier for Sherlock to inspect the unknown creature sitting across him.

 **The woman**. He had been unable to identify her as anything else. Deductions failed to be applied to this specific _woman_. It had never happened to him before. His eyes glid over her features. Her hair, her shoulders, her chest. The way they would simultaneously move with her every intake of breath. Sherlock's eyes shifted upwards, lingering on her lips.  
 _Deductions, Holmes, use your deductions_ he thought to himself. Once more, he shifted his gaze upwards. Her eyes. The human eyes held enough information for the detective to determine whether one was a smoker, a mother, someone suffering from insomnia or even a drug addict. Intuition told him the woman could be none of those stated. Hazel brown, almond shaped, beautiful..   
His head snapped sideways. Concentrate. Brown would indicate either one of the parents had passed those genes, the hazel part making the other significant other green or blue-eyed. Probability indicates she has her mother's eyes.

Sherlock took a deep breath. One more glance. This time her eyes were fixated on something behind the detective. It were as if she hadn't the slightest idea he was even there. A feeling brushed over him for the briefest time. Disappointment? Tedious. Sentiment had always been a chemical defect found on the losing party.

"Morning." Watson walked in from behind Sherlock. Upon hearing his partner's footsteps, the detective could tell the doctor was in a good mood. And of course that could only mean it were but a matter of time before Sherlock would hear all about Watson's day. But that wasn't of importance yet. Not yet.

Because as with every other single attempt to discover more about this _woman_ , Sherlock had never been able to get past her eyes. Hazel brown, almond shaped, and _very_ beautiful.

"Sherlock" Watson called. He had placed himself beside the detective. "You're doing it again."

A low sound came from within Sherlock's chest. "Hmm?" he absently moved towards the man now sitting beside him. His eyes were still fixated on her. 

"Staring, Sherlock. You're staring at her again."

"I'm observing, Watson. There's a difference." he quickly replies in a way of dismissing the topic.

"I'm pretty sure _drooling_ isn't a part of observation." 

The doctor wasn't going to drop the subject. He had found himself rather amused by his friend's behavior whenever he were near Guinevere.   
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his chair to face Watson. 

"Leave." the detective commanded.

Watson moved closer. "Not until you talk to her. Y'know, like real people do." His words were direct, but sincere, as ever.

"Dull." Sherlock exclaimed, turning his chair back to face her. Watson sighed and left the man be.

"Guinevere!" he called as he made his way towards her. 

Sherlock's eyes widened as he glared up at the doctor. He was utterly annoyed. "Guinevere!?" he mumbled. Watson knew this woman? When Sherlock refocused, his eyes were set on the now discussing pair. This time it were Sherlock's lips that had parted.


	2. Vendetta

Irene Adler, a woman feeling betrayed, has agreed to cooperate with Sherlock Holmes in order to gain back her insurance policy and be free from the grip Moriarty held on her. Her broken heart had trouble with admitting so easily to help the man and woman responsible for her misery, so she would let them pay first. The part that made it even worse? It wasn't even the heartache, oh no. The beauty of it all was the fact that neither of them truly knew. But she'd make sure of it. If only to return the favor of breaking their hearts.

"Watson!" Guinevere called. The doctor had been missing all night and all night she had been searching for him. It wasn't until early in the morning, long before sunset that Sherlock had received a text containing Watson's location. The doctor had been taken captive by miss Adler.  
"Down here!" the woman called back. "I do hope you brought the clever detective with the funny hat with you." she mused.

Guinevere glanced back at Sherlock anxiously. He furrowed his brows at her gaze but nodded. "Downstairs." he said.  
Guinevere took a steady breath and proceeded to the lower level of the abandoned building. When she reached it, she stood facing Watson. He had been placed inside of a prison cell. It was small and obviously self-made. Guinevere could have easily gotten him out if it weren't for the-

"Clever, isn't it?" Irene appeared from the shadows. She gazed up at her masterpiece. 

"You obviously want something in return for Watson's freedom, so name your price." Sherlock took a step into the room. His eyes locked with Watson's, giving him a reassuring nod.

"Now, now, mister Holmes." Irene moved her hand behind her back, as if to reach for something. "The sun isn't even shining yet and you want to discuss business?" a rectangular device was now placed in her left hand. Sherlock opened his mouth but was interrupted by the doctor. 

"Sherlock, before you piss her off entirely... Listen." he said.

Irene's lips curled up and she moved towards the bars containing Watson. "The remote I have in my hand controls the mechanism that controls the mechanism that controls the- you know how this goes, of the mechanism controlling the heat dispenser, making sure these bars here, these iron bars..." she grabbed a water bottle from the floor and poured its content onto the bars. A piercing sizzling sound followed, accustomed with a white cloud of smoke. "...are hot. Do you follow?"

"I presume every mechanism has its own password, then?" Sherlock moved to face her. His expression unamused.

"You are good." Irene moved closer, but stiffened upon hearing Guinevere's voice.

"You wish to trade, then trade." her arms were crossed. "No more games."

Watson's brows elevated upon seeing Guinevere's bravery towards the woman. "Silly girl. The game's just about to start." Miss Adler rolled her eyes and quickly winked at Sherlock. She then proceeded to the right-most corner of the room. A chair had been hidden there in the dark and she placed herself on it. "I think I'm going to let Dr.Watson explain how this works. Just to keep things interesting."

All eyes were now set upon the doctor, but he remained mute.

"Oh for heaven's sake John, tell us what she wants!" Sherlock called.

"She.." he cleared his throat. "Alright, she wants you to kiss."

Guinevere looked slightly amused upon the doctor's revelation.

"That's it?" she turned towards Irene. "All...this, for a kiss? Nothing more?" Guinevere worried about the woman's still self-contented look. She furrowed her brows as Irene's smile only widened.

"Didn't I tell you this would happen, doctor? That she'd actually be this ignorant?" 

"Fine!" Guinevere snapped. "One kiss and Watson's free. _You're_ ignorant if you think this-" she was interrupted by the look Watson gave her. The doctor looked restrained, yet his eyes urged her to think further than the complications at hand. As if through looking at her, he could magically show her the importance of the things currently at stake.   
She had opened her mouth only to close it as she saw Sherlock from the corner of her eye.

He looked utterly defeated. His gaze was dark and he seemed to stare in front of him, as if he were staring down at his own gravestone. 

"I think I'll cherish this moment most." Irene moved up from her chair and stepped towards Sherlock, circling him. "I remember someone telling me.." she stepped onto her toes to whisper in his ear. "..sentiment is a chemical defect- found on the losing side." Nothing. No muscle, no limb, no nothing responded within Sherlock's body. It wasn't for several long seconds before the detective finally opened his mouth. 

"How-"

"Isn't it obvious?" Irene moved past him in Guinevere's direction. "You weren't cautious, Sherlock dear. Moriarty's seen it too, so maybe not all harm will be done to her because of you. Not quite..yet."

"Sherlock?" Guinevere questioned the man. "Explain." she moved towards him, but Irene blocked her path. 

"Go on, Sherlock. If we have to wait for her to figure it out on her own we'll be here until sundown." she kept her eyes on Guinevere, examining her. She was going to enjoy the change in her expression. Seeing all the puzzle-pieces fall into place, only to find the image it created... breaking you into an equal amount of pieces.

"You know I can't." Sherlock raised his voice. Guinevere scrambled the chair from its place and carried it towards the iron bars. 

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you? Sherlock, out with it. Her ignorance is getting on my nerves." Irene moved past the girl, reclaimed the chair and sat down. 

"Knock those bars over and the ceiling will collapse, causing John to be buried under it." The detective explained, causing Watson to throw his arms on his head in frustration.

"Now, the rest?"

Irene's smile had reappeared. And Guinevere couldn't take it any longer. She took one step before Sherlock whispered her name. It had made her halt immediately. "I've had a bit of help you see... Moriarty sends his love. He gave me a lot of advice on how to play the detective-boys. Told me a few of your weak spots, didn't even ask for anything in return. He simply wanted to cause trouble. Now _that's_ my sort of man." the woman crossed her legs. 

"But you still lied to him." Watson suddenly spoke. "To keep Guinevere out of his hit-list. Why'd you go do that?"

"Hmm, because I know he won't be able to hurt her as much as the person standing in front her can. No one can." her grin spread from ear to ear in a way that emitted the pleasure she felt at the thought of her words. 

Sherlock clenched his hands into fists. "I'm not getting any younger, dear." Irene spoke again. Her voice had gotten an icy undertone to it. "Tell me again why I'm doing this."  
"Because.." the detective's voice cracked. "I- chose her." 

It remained silent.

"And you want me to kiss her so I have no other option but to break her heart." he kept his gaze on Guinevere at all times. Her lips parted and she felt anguished. "How?" she wondered aloud. "How could you possibly be so sure that he'd break my heart?"

"Because he's in love with you. You can't hide that in a kiss. And if Moriarty finds out exactly how big that place of her in your heart is, Sherlock, what's stopping him from using it against you?" Watson shook his head and cursed silently at the woman's words.   
"This one's been careful, though- We haven't figured out if she feels the same way. Would you like to find out? I hear her last lover manipulated her into thinking he loved her, only to ensure himself of never getting caught by the CIA." Irene hummed.

"And then she killed him." Sherlock stepped forward so he could touch Guinevere's face if he reached his hand up high enough. "I am sorry." he breathed.  
The girl made a quick glance to her side, at Watson, and in a heartbeat stepped on her toes to press her lips onto Sherlock's.


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes to the rescue

There were only a handful of respectable hospitals in London. And, though most people wouldn't even know them to _be_ hospitals, it only seemed to increase Sherlock's preference in the buildings. They offered solitude, anonymity and.. well, _her_.  
He'd seen her pay a visit to two particular hospitals ever so often. Who was he to refrain from choosing the same, whenever he had research that needed to be done?  
Today, however, seemed different. She seemed different. Her movements were hurried. She rushed across rooms as if her life depended on it. It annoyed Sherlock to say the least, peeking up from his microscope once every six seconds. What on earth was she up to?  
He got ready to confront her on it. Pushing the microscope away and stretching his legs, except something told him to keep quiet. As if on instinct, his gaze set upon one of the opening doors across the hall. He wasn't even surprised to find that not _her_ but three men in black suits entered the hallway. Armed.  
They see him, locking their gaze with him and decide to approach him. Sherlock's jaw clenches. These men were professionals. Sent with orders. He wanted to know what they were.  
"We're looking for a woman. Brown hair, hazel eyes." Sherlock blinks. It explained the rushing.  
"Top floor. Second door to your right. Any chance you might tell me why you need her?" The men simply nod at one another and then left the room, giving Sherlock his cue that time started ticking. It would take the men approximately two minutes to reach the top floor by elevator. One if they took the stairs. It was a luxury he couldn't afford to waste. So he sprinted. Remembering as best he could what door he saw her enter last. He didn't bother knocking, once he reached it at last.  
She stood face to face with him now. It was as if she stood ready to leave the room and Sherlock beat her to it. "Follow me. Now. Three men are here to find you. If you value your life as it currently is, you stay with me, understood?" Her lips part, ready to protest, but something in her eyes shifted and she nods. "Take the lead."  
Sherlock hums as he turns to re-enter the hallway. He'd imagined the sound of her voice a million times. None of it came close to the actual presentation. "Where are they now?" she asks him. He takes a right, getting her out of building before anything else. "Top floor. Though I doubt they'll stay much longer." 

"You lead them there?" 

"Yes."

"You didn't have to do that. They'll be mad once they figure out that you mislead them."

"And you didn't have to listen to a stranger ordering you to follow him to unknown grounds. I could be taking you anywhere."

"A stranger wouldn't go out of his way to ensure my safety."

"Am I no stranger?"

"No."

The word has him halt in his steps. They're standing in an abandoned alley, four blocks removed from the hospital. "You're Sherlock Holmes. The clever detective who solves crimes and make people's problems disappear. I trust you." 

The words were so simple, yet..

"Follow me, Miss Forbes."


End file.
